Henri Laveau
by Shiva-J
Summary: An AU in which the infant Harry was rescued off of the Dursley's porch by the seemingly ageless Marie Laveau, Voodoo Queen of New Orleans. When he returns to Britain with everything she has taught him, what side, if any will he support? Warning: Some Slash in later chapters.
1. Henri Laveau

**Henri Laveau**

In the most ordinary place imaginable, a number of odd things had happened, a cat that could read had been spotted, along with strange folk that wore robes and capes, and there were owls and shooting stars.

And on the doorstep of a house with the address of Number 4 Privet Drive was a baby in a basket with a note.

The child was sleeping peacefully with a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt on his forehead, partly covered by a crop of messy black hair.

It was in his slumber that he was found by someone even stranger than the ones who had left him here.

She was beautiful and exotic, her caramel skin seemed to glow in the streetlights, her dark robes blended into the shadows, and her chocolate brown eyes shined with an inner fire.

She spoke with an accent that many in Britain would mistake for French, in truth it was Creole.

"Sweet child," she said to the slumbering infant, "Albus was a fool to leave you here, your parents told him not to do it."

She made a hissing sound before picking up the basket, the warding charms placed around it by the most powerful wizard alive fell apart at the slightest flicker of her hands.

The letter dissolved into dust a mere moment later.

"I apologize for this," she said to the child before a wand emerged from her wrist and into her free hand.

She whispered something that wouldn't recognize as a spell by most Old World wizards and a single drop of blood appeared out of thin air.

A flick of her wand sent the blood drop flying; it landed on the door and was absorbed into the wood without protest.

"That should fool the fool," she whispered with a hint of a grin at her word play before turning from the house, "At least for a little while."

As she walked down the empty road, she sighed and spoke to seeming thin air, "Bonjou Mister and Misses Potter, I found him so don't fret none."

She made a turn into a small abandoned lot and her gaze focused on the ground at a broken blue bottle, she checked her watch and muttered, "I hope my idiot nephew remembered to set the Portkey right this time."

She then turned to her right and spoke to the empty space, "Don't be so glum, once he's older and I've shown him the Art, he'll be able to see and speak to you again."

The bottle glowed for a brief second and she touched it with her foot and vanished from the alley, never to return.

Meanwhile as Wizarding Britain celebrated the demise of the Dark Lord and the one who had defeated him, the boy who had done so was no longer even on the European continent.

By the time Albus Dumbledore realized that one Harry James Potter had never been found by his muggle relatives, it was too late.

* * *

The large white plantation shimmered with the haze of the midday sun and the blanket of magic that guarded it and the surrounding lands around it from unwanted intrusion.

The doors and windows were large, letting in the sunshine that rained down on the other side of the world, the child began to stir, but a simple charm cloaked him in shadows once more.

The boy needed his rest after all.

In time he would discover the wonders of this place, all the hidden nooks and crannies, the chili peppers that were still grown here, the seemingly endless gardens, and the quirks of the nearby bayou and the creatures both natural and magical that dwelt there.

But for now as soon as she stepped through the threshold there were two pops, a small house elf with large eyes like tennis balls and a young man with dark skin and a large dopey grin now stood at attention on the foot of the large staircase in the entrance hall.

"Does Mistress be needing anything?" the house elf squeaked.

"Is the child's room prepared, Trixie?" the woman asked briskly even as she walked up the stairs.

"Of course Mistress."

"Good, now leave us for now."

With a pop the creature disappeared.

"Auntie Marie," her nephew said with curiosity, "Why did you go and bring this child here?"

Marie stopped her movement on the stark white staircase and paused to look at him, "Because Jean, the spirits told me many things, and this child is at the center of most of it."

"Oh." Jean breathed with a slight flush, and then asked if she would need anything else of him.

"No, not today my little barnacle." She informed him with warmth, using her nickname for the last living member of her family.

He grinned before vanishing with a pop.

As she resumed her trek, she caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror and couldn't help but think with a hint of vanity, 'Not bad lookin' for almost two hundred.'

She passed by several richly appointed rooms on the second floor before reaching her destination, the new nursery.

Like the rest of the house the walls were pure white, decorated with expensive paintings of fantastical landscapes and strange creatures, all of whom moved about and waved at their current Mistress, who ignored them.

A beautiful chandelier would give light at night along with several ever-lasting candles nearby, toys were already available in a beautiful oak box in a corner on the floor.

In the center of the room was a varnished and gleaming ebony cradle with silver and white silk sheets and pillows.

She placed the infant inside and with a flick of her wand changed his clothes and diaper, now he wore a much nicer set of blood red pajamas.

"Rest for now child," she whispered before kissing him softly and departing, "I have things to do for you."

She walked out of the door, wards clicking into place behind her, once it was shut she noticed that the small golden plaque she had ordered for his room had been left blank.

"I guess Trixie didn't know what his name would be." Marie said to herself with a sigh and waved her wand once more before walking away.

Gleaming in the light of the sun filtering down from a nearby window a new set of words were as plain as day for all to see.

_'This is the Room of Henri Jacques Laveau'_

* * *

_Notes: The intro is short, but it sets things up properly. Oh and the usual disclaimers apply. And I fixed the format and some typos._


	2. The First Vision

**The First Vision**

"Mama!" the boy said happily as they walked under the light of the full moon into the depths of the swamp, "Am I going to see them tonight?"

The woman holding his hand, guiding him safely on the right path, looked down indulgently at the persistent five year old and replied, "Perhaps child, if the spirits will it."

It was enough for her little Henri to quiet him; in the gleam of the moon she could see the wind blowing his messy hair, revealing a perfectly smooth forehead.

The ugly scar that had marred him after the death of his birth parents had been difficult to remove, the malevolent spirit within it more so.

But not impossible, and after exorcising it and placing it within a pig, one slit throat was all it had taken to banish it to whatever hell it belonged in.

It was much easier to heal his eyes so he wouldn't need glasses like his father apparently had, or so she had been told by James Potter himself on multiple occasions.

They passed through a curtain of ivy and entered a clearing near the center of the swamp, the trees were twisted into an unnatural circle, the tops allowing a void to expose the sky.

In the light of the moon, the dew on the grass and broken branches and leaves gleamed like liquid silver, but the focal point was the circle of stones in the center and the altar.

It was decorated in flowers and uncut precious stones, carved into it were symbols sacred to every known magical culture in the world, there were icons with offering bowls, Roman Catholic Saints that represented Gods and Gods that represented Saints.

For them, they were all representations of the Loa, the spirits who link the material world with the Creator.

Henri had seen and been a part of these rituals for as long as he could remember, always feeling the incredible rush of magic flowing from his Mama as she invoked the spirits to gain their favors and to aid her in various magical workings.

While he joined her in it, and felt his own budding magical core spark in sync with hers, he had yet to see anything of the Beyond for himself.

His green eyes shined like a forbidden killing curse as his Mama began to chant, first in Latin, then in a mixture of tongues, the meaning of the words slowly but surely becoming more important than the words themselves.

Henri felt his eyes focus on Papa Legba, St. Peter, the intermediary between humans and the Loa, who in turn were intermediaries with the ever unknowable Creator.

"Please," he pleaded softly with his magic flaring around him, a candle's flame against the hurricane contained within his Mama's flesh, "Let me see."

It wasn't a formal prayer he was making, he had made plenty of those before, but rather something that was emerging from within by instinct.

The universe seemed to pivot upon the icon, a figure of St. Peter with a pipe, a straw hat, his rod tweaked into a cane with a small plastic dog at his feet.

A surge of power flooded his body, and within an instant he was looking down at himself, from high in the sky.

A shimmering tether was all that seemed to link him to his mortal body, his Mama in the throes of a possession, gaining insight, but into what she would rarely say.

At least in terms he would understand right away.

For a brief moment he pondered what he was seeing before he twisted upwards and saw the sky, the stars glowing more brightly than they ever had before, the faintest stars like the Pleiades were as visible as Polaris.

The moon seemed to be the sun itself, no longer smiling with benign indifference on the world, but with the joys of being alive.

He felt whispers, countless whispers, the stars seemed to spin in circles, glowing brighter and brighter by the second.

He had flashes of understanding that faded away as new flashes came to him, one whisper stood out in saying that most would be forgotten to him, a few recalled right away, others would come to him later when he needed them most.

Then the stars began to slowly stop spinning, and the whispers began to fade, a moment of quiet emerged.

If he had breath, he would have exhaled.

Then a figure appeared before him, floating in the skies just above him.

She was a beautiful woman in formal robes, her fire red hair flowing freely down her back and sides.

And her eyes…

They were the same shade as his.

"Mum…" Henri whispered in a voice that could shake mountains.

She smiled with tears in her eyes and nodded and opened her mouth to speak.

Then there was a powerful tug and he fell downward to the earth in a sudden rush and felt a powerful snap and knew no more.

* * *

"Mum…" he moaned weakly as his eyes fluttered open, trying to focus, in a moment they settled and he realized many things at once.

That his Mama was above him, mere inches from his face, with concern on hers, and he was on his back on the ground, his body feeling worn out as if he had been playing outside all day.

"Child," Marie Laveau crooned softly, "…What did you see?"

She didn't have to ask what had happened, the answer was obvious.

Henri answered, "Us from the sky, the stars spinning, and…"

He trailed off, his eyes beginning to swim with tears.

"Yes?" Marie coaxed, looking deep into his eyes and soul, needing to ensure that her child hadn't been harmed by his experience.

"…My birth mum."

There was a pregnant pause, before it was broken by the large smile that bloomed on Marie Laveau's face.

"You've had your first vision child," she said while shifting to sit, not caring if her dress got dirty, even as she helped him up to join her, "Others will follow and in time the spirits will even come to you without a ritual, if you or they have need of course."

Henri nodded, having learned his lessons by heart already, "Jean said this should have happened sooner."

Marie hissed, "Don't listen to him about that, I already said that your power needed to settle longer before coming to the surface."

Henri nodded again; she had told him the story of how he had come to live at the Laveau Plantation, though even a child like himself could note that she had left some things out.

"The Blood Adoption?" he half-asked and grinned weakly when Mama nodded.

Even while recalling that it was only part of the reason for his visions to have only emerged now rather like her own from the very first memory she had.

Internally she spat curses at the twisted being that had infected her Henri with his broken soul, and Albus Dumbledore for his meddling attempts at locating the boy.

Not to mention trying to seize the Potter Estate.

But she had triumphed with quick thinking and a somewhat rushed Blood Adoption Ritual, leaving the Light Lord without an ounce of control and no clue as to his location, or even the identity of his new guardian.

But she pushed aside her past victories and said with pride and joy.

"Now I can say that you can truly begin."

"Begin what?" Henri asked, his mind not knowing even while his heart knew the answer.

"Your true education in magic." Marie Laveau replied before pulling him into a powerful hug under the moonlight and the gaze of the Loa.

The wind blew gently around them, filled with the scents of life and death that inhabited the swamps of Louisiana.

In her arms, Henri Laveau absorbed his Mama's love like a sponge, even as he felt his body give into his exhaustion.

He never remembered her carrying his limp body back to the big house, singing lullabies in French, the unseen smiles of James and Lily Potter fixed upon their son.

But Marie did, for the rest of her days.

* * *

_Author's Message: Thanks for the reviews guys, I appreciate the support. And while I'm not an expert on Voodoo, I feel confident in being able to blend it with the world that JKR created._


	3. Henri's Eighth Birthday

**Henri's Eighth Birthday **

The darkness turned into sunshine, forcing the sleeper to awaken, and groggily drag himself out of bed.

"Good morning Young Master," Trixie, the Laveau's House-Elf, "and a Happy Eighth Birthday!"

A boy with very messy black hair rubbed his emerald eyes and smiled before rising from his four-poster bed, the white and silver silk sheets rumpled from use.

His room was spacious and sumptuous, like the rest of the Laveau Plantation the walls were stark white and decorated with paintings and pictures, most of which were greeting him.

One entire section of wall was dedicated to books. The titles ranging from leisurely fiction (both Ordinary Folk and Magical) to spell books, some were quite common; others rare, and a few were one of a kinds that had been penned by his Mama through the course of her life.

One corner contained various games and toys, all of which were neatly packed away when not in use.

There was a work desk that saw surprising regular use for a kid his age, but then again Henri Laveau was no ordinary child.

He walked into his private bathroom, a bit smaller than his bedroom but not by much and got cleaned up, then undertook the arduous task of taming his hair with gel and styling goop so it didn't look like the top of a mop.

Once it was finished, Henri looked at his reflection for a minute; he had delicate features and high cheek bones, which with his dark hair, scary green eyes, and skin tone from his Mama gave him a face many called beautiful with the hint of the exotic.

He turned from this and then changed into the clothes set out for him, a dark blue silk shirt and black pants with black silk socks and good shoes.

Henri then bounded out of the room and headed on down the stairs, careful not to break his Mama's 'no running inside' rule, and wove a familiar path to the dining room.

The large mahogany table inside was set with a big breakfast for three, and all of it was his favorite foods.

"Happy birthday little serpent!" a jaunty voice said from behind him.

Henri turned around to see his 'Uncle' Jean Laveau and squealed in delight when he was pulled into a big bear hug.

Once he was put down, Henri and Jean sat down at the table to wait for the matriarch of the family to arrive.

During this lull the lad couldn't help but think of how he had acquired his nickname, a mere month shy of his sixth birthday when Uncle Jean had gone looking for him and found young Henri crouching down by a log near the edge of the tree line.

There apparently Jean had started to holler for him but stopped when he saw the biggest python of his life in front of Henri.

And heard the hissing coming from both of them.

After the surprisingly quick-witted serpent departed, Jean had sat him down and told him that being able to speak to serpents was a sign of favor of the Mami Wata.

"They be water spirits," Jean had explained in further detail, "They give out favors or curses dependin' on how you please them."

Jean had then added that Mama Marie could talk to snakes as well, but had stopped doing it decades ago after the death of her own python familiar, Zombi.

"I ain't sure why you can do this," Jean finished as he had given Henri a hug, "But the spirits always have their reasons."

Henri was brought out of his ponderings by the arrival of Mama Marie, or just Mama to him.

She greeted them warmly, wearing her usual black robes with a brightly colored red shawl, her hair done up and covered in a white scarf with black ivy patterns.

They sat down to breakfast and indulged in the food and warm conversation.

Which for Henri meant asking the all-important question.

"What am I getting this year?"

That had Marie and Jean laughing gaily for a little bit, and his Mama answered mysteriously, "You'll find out after breakfast."

Henri wanted to huff, but didn't want to get a lecture on his manners on his eighth birthday, so he settled for another gulp of orange juice.

He finished as quickly as decorum would allow and danced on his heels, Marie looked at her nephew and winked before saying that she wasn't hungry and they both left their meal half-finished on the table for Trixie to clean.

In an adjacent parlor, a small pile of presents from both elder Laveau's, though Henri knew that it wouldn't be until later that he would get to open them.

After all his friends would be coming with gifts for the official party later.

"And there is one more thing," Marie added from the background, "Though we'll have to go to the Big Easy right now to go get it."

Henri Laveau managed to squeak out, "Really?"

"Yes, really." His Mama added before holding out her hand.

Henri took it and before departing via Side-A-Long Apparition, heard Jean say, "I'll hold down the fort."

* * *

The Apparition point was only lightly full due to the early hours, but even then there were curious stares from on-lookers at the pair.

But the stares were quickly averted as well, even those that didn't recognize the tall and beautiful woman could get the sense that she was not someone to cross.

Even after all these years, a first glimpse of the True French Quarter was always a wonderful sight, the tall, colorful and haphazard structures that challenged the laws of physics and good sense.

"Let the Ordinary Folk keep their so-called French Quarter," Mama had once said, "We've got the real one all to ourselves."

His Mama was full of quirky sayings and words like that, 'Ordinary Folk' instead of 'Muggle', and whenever her crypt was mentioned would give a big belly laugh and reply, "Oh there's _someone's _bones in there, but they ain't mine."

The rare occasion when Henri had asked her whose bones they were exactly, Mama had just given one of her mysterious smiles and offered nothing further.

They walked down the cobblestone streets past places like Dead Man's Drink, St. John's Apothecary, the Rattles & Rolls bookstore.

Henri was trying to think of what his Mama could possibly need to buy for him on his birthday that required his physical presence when a sign appeared that gave him inspiration.

"A wand," Henri whispered in awe, "You're getting me a wand."

Marie smiled as she led him by the hand down the street, "You guessed right Henri, your core has grown to the point where you're ready for your first wand."

Since the age of five, he had been trained by his Mama in the ways of magic, she showed him her rituals, the art of brewing potions, making gris-gris bags, poppet dolls, the power to peer into the past and future (this was one of his weaker skills sadly), and above all else, how to commune and speak to spirits and ghosts.

But as Girod's Wand Shoppe came into view, Marie continued walking past it and addressed her confused son with the mysterious words.

"I'm taking you to a different shop."

Henri shook his head even as he followed her, as far as he knew, Paul Girod was the only wandmaker in the Louisiana area worth going too.

Even as he thought about the man's reputation as one of the best wandmaker's in the New World, his Mama took them on a few twists and turns and they found themselves entering an area of the True French Quarter that she had often told him was off limits to little boys that didn't want to vanish into a hag's cook pot.

Shadelight Avenue.

Unlike the rest of the True French Quarter, which was brightly lit, even in the darkest night, this place had a haze of nighttime, even on a bright morning like this.

There were very few people about at the moment; most of those who came to do business in this place did so at night.

But for those who were about, they got one look at the pair and immediately went out of their way to avoid bothering them.

Henri glanced about from side to side, seeing store windows filled with strange plants, vicious animals, toxic potions, exotic objects, and hints of stranger things still.

'And all of them quite Dark.' the lad thought to himself as his mother's feet turned them up a flight of steps to one of the smaller stores with a weather beaten sign that said.

'Soulé's Fine Wands; Since 1720'

Even though it had a sign saying 'closed', his mother opened the door with confidence and they stepped in with a bell ringing from behind them.

In the dim light, Henri could see stacks of boxes reaching up to the ceiling on one side, the other was dedicated to opaque jars that he presumed were filled with some sort of potion or ingredients for such concoctions.

"Greetings Miss Laveau," a soft voice said as a figure emerged from the shadows, "and right on time as well."

"Bonjour to you Celeste." Marie returned politely.

The woman in front of them was in her early twenties, bald-headed and her skin as black as midnight, her makeup elaborate, kohl surrounded her strange violet eyes, her robes were wine red and reminded Henri of a phoenix.

Celeste gave him a slight grin and asked Marie, "Is the wand that my great-great-great-grandmother made you still working out?"

"It is functioning just fine Celeste." Marie Laveau replied without missing a beat, though her eyes did have a slight gleam in them that hadn't been present before.

Celeste seemed to take the hint and moved on, "So your Henri is here for his first wand, always a cause for joy."

The boy in question felt that awkward feeling that he got whenever people mentioned his Mama's age, he took in stride that she had lived for a long time, but someone always found ways to bring up the strangeness of it all.

But whatever the cause, she had made it very clear that it wasn't up for discussion, and he had learned not to bring it up.

Celeste motioned for him to approach, once in arm's reach she held out a tape measure and it began moving about on its own, a pad and a quill took to the air and began taking notes while Celeste stared into his eyes for a long while before nodding to herself.

She read what the quill had written for a minute once it finished and the tape measure vanished into nothingness.

Then she took out a needle and said "Prick your right ring finger on it."

Henri did a double take and looked to Marie for confirmation, she just nodded and with reluctance he complied with the request.

He sucked on his finger afterward; the needle with the drop of his blood was set in midair and stayed there as Celeste Soulé spoke.

"Unlike other wandmakers, I use techniques handed down by my grandmothers, all of our wands are custom fitted and made for the individual wizard."

She took a breath and continued, "The blood you've offered will be bound to the wood of your wand, ensuring that it will stay loyal to you and _only_ to you. Any other person that tries to use it will find it inert, even if they've defeated you in battle."

By the end of her memorized speech, Henri was wide-eyed. His Mama had explained a few things about wandlore during his studies and one thing that had stood out were the complex laws that governed the loyalty of a wand and how it could switch over to a new wizard that had 'beaten' it in battle.

"Now," Celeste said to get his attention back, "I need you to close your eyes and feel your magic, hold out your arms as straight as you can, and let your power flow outward."

As she and Marie moved behind him, Henri complied and Celeste explained this, "This will cause the right components for your wand to be drawn too you, once they are in your hand, close it in your fist so you don't drop anything."

Henri Laveau took a deep breath and concentrated on the power that was within his very being, at first there was nothing, then he felt a strange tugging sensation from both his hands.

It was slow at first but it grew and grew until he felt rushes from either side, then there were objects in his hands.

He clenched them tight and opened his eyes just as Celeste gasped in surprise.

"That's rare." She said while giving him an odd look.

Henri was confused as he looked at what was in his hands, in his left hand was a long, thin box which he guessed held his wandwood.

The right however had two small bottles.

"You're wand will have a dual core." Celeste added, her eyes fixed on his right hand.

It was Henri's turn to gasp, a wand with a dual core was extremely rare, he only knew of handful that had existed in written record, the most famous had been the wands of Merlin and Herpo the Foul respectively.

Celeste and his Mama approached, the wandmaker looked at what he had and said with a shaky voice, "Your wand will be 13 and ¾ inches, with Sequoia redwood and its dual core will be of Thestral and Unicorn tail-hairs."

"A wand of life and death then." Marie said softly, even while giving Henri an embrace, after he handed the materials over to Celeste Soulé of course.

Henri couldn't help but smile, his eyes dancing with hints of power as his Mama paid up in advance for the work involved.

"It will be delivered once finished," Celeste said as the Laveau's turned to depart, "and remember to spread the good word about Soulé's."

Once the bell rang and they were out of the door, Celeste Soulé sagged a bit into herself and she said to the emptiness, "Good luck Henri, for you will rock the world to its foundations."

* * *

After returning home, Henri had had only an hour to change into his party clothes before his friends had arrived.

To ensure that he wasn't completely isolated, Marie Laveau had enrolled him into a program that taught magical children their basic (non-magical) education, away from Ordinary Folk so their accidental magic wouldn't cause problems.

As a result, her Henri had made a few friends, and now they were here in force with their parents.

The birthday cake, an all vanilla with white and blue frosting affair, had been cut and was being eaten with ice cream and sodas, her boy was opening his presents.

He brought in a haul of several books, new clothes, new toys, a Cloudcutter 1900 (an American racing broom brand) from Jean, wizarding and muggle candies of all sorts, and the best gift of all was given by a beaming Marie.

She had quietly snuck out of the room and was now coming back in with a cage with a gorgeous owl with inky black feathers and large yellow eyes.

"…Is that for me?" Henri asked in partial disbelief as he took in the beautiful bird, who looked at him regally for a moment before making a happy sound.

"Yes my child," Marie said lovingly as the crowd of well-wishers oohed and awwed, "He's yours."

The smile that bloomed on Henri's face could have made even the stoniest heart melt into a puddle.

He decided in that moment that his eighth birthday was the best one yet.

* * *

The next day a box was delivered by Owl to the Plantation from Soulé's Fine Wands, it contained a Sequoia redwood, 13 and ¾ in, with a dual core of Thestral and Unicorn tail hairs.

And a simple note that read.

_'With compliments, Celeste Soulé'_


	4. The Letter from Hogwarts

**The Letter from Hogwarts **

On the surface there was very little that changed at the Laveau Plantation, more often than not the only signs of change involved the turning of the seasons.

But a sign of change could be easily found within the big house itself, just beyond the entrance hall there was a sitting room that was intended for guests, a bit more ostentatious than the rest of the house, designed to impress more than anything else.

In that sitting room was a wall that was covered in framed photographs of the wizarding type, each one told a story.

A few were of a bouncing baby boy, smiling happily as he did things for the first time, like walking, talking, and the like.

Others were of that child when he was older, one was his first time on a real racing broom, another was taken with his adoptive mother as they talked to a swamp troll chieftain, yet another still was of him and his Uncle Jean as they watched a Quodpot game at a pitch in the Arizona desert.

But the images that, if spotted, would draw the most comments would always be of the entire Laveau clan attending Catholic Mass, or preparing for a Voodoo ritual, or most strange of all was the image of a boy of about eight years of age, with black hair and green eyes in the coils of a massive python, laughing and grinning with a black feathered owl on top of his head.

The boy in question, Henri Laveau was currently in the Plantation's second floor library, a complex of rooms that was far larger on the inside than it was outside.

He was supposed to be doing an essay on the differences between an Inferi and a Zombi, but had struggled to find an ending for it for about ten minutes and had given it up as a bad job.

Instead, Henri was idly reading two different potions books at once, flipping between one and the other depending on his fancy.

It was always fascinating to see how different potioneers handled the same ingredients for their brews, the little variations revealing aspects of their personalities.

The sound of footsteps caused him to look up from the _Collected Lunar Brews of_ _Hesper Starky, _the library door opened and his Uncle Jean entered with his usual happy-go-lucky demeanor.

"Hello my little serpent." Jean said with a big grin as he sauntered over and pulled up a chair, then propped his feet on the table.

"If Mama was in the room you wouldn't dare do this." Henri told him plainly and pointed at the offending appendages in question.

"Dis be true," Jean conceded, "But since she is not…"

They both smirked as he trailed off, the first unofficial rule between them was that rules were only rules if you were caught breaking them.

Then the so-called adult in the room changed the subject with, "How's the essay that Auntie Marie set you?"

"Terribly," Henri moaned while rubbing his face in a dramatic fashion, "I can't find a way to end it properly."

Jean sighed in familiarity, "I know the feeling little serpent."

He then pointed his wand, seemingly at random at the bookshelves, and Henri felt the whisper of magic before a book floated down from one of the top shelves and landed on the table in front of them.

The cover was of old black leather and seemed to have been stained with old blood.

Henri turned to his uncle with a raised eyebrow, it was rare for either his Uncle or Mama to just hand him a book so clearly dark.

Jean just smirked and opened it to a page and said, "Read for about three pages, this should help."

Henri turned back to the tome and began reading, a couple sentences in he couldn't resist asking, "Who wrote this?"

"An old rival of the family," Jean said cryptically, "Nasty business back in the 1890's, or so my own Grandmama told me."

Henri whistled, "You mean this book was written by…"

"Oh yes," Jean interrupted him, "Frederick Grindelwald himself, during his ill-advised experiments with the Dark Arts and some of Auntie Marie's stolen notes."

Jean would have said more, but the yelp he gave as his feet flew off the table and landed on the hardwood floor with a very loud thud cut him off.

"I won't be so nice the next time I catch you with your feet on one of my tables, Jean." The voice of Marie Laveau said from the open doorway.

Once again she had proven her capacity at sneaking up on them, and the slight hint of a scowl was enough to gain stammered apologies from Jean.

For Henri however she had a much softer smile, though there was sternness in Marie's eyes when her gaze fell on the book in front of him.

Henri began to apologize but she simply cut him off with a wave, "Don't fret child, this is for your essay, right?"

He nodded very quickly, which caused her eyes to gleam with bemusement at his urgency at reassuring his Mama of his good intentions.

"Alright then," she replied kindly, "I'll give you another ten minutes before it's due, we'll work on some Transfiguration next."

Henri asked if it would be with a wand or without.

"A mixture of both." His Mama assured him, relishing the grin her boy's face.

All of the members of the Laveau family that had magic were trained in both wand and wandless magic from a young age.

It was virtually unknown to most wizarding kind, since they operated under the delusion that wandless magic was a rare feat that required great skill and natural magical power.

In truth anyone with at least an average level of magical power could do it, otherwise there wouldn't be so much accidental magic happening to the young wizards and witches before they gained their first wands and their cores became bound.

The trick was to teach wandless magic first, then have the child bond with a wand and they could work with both skills equally.

Her boy however sighed, "But I won't be able to show off what I can do at Hogwarts, right?"

Marie nodded sadly, "Yes child, you'll have a hard enough time staying out of Dumbledore's grip without being see as too powerful, too young."

"I wish he didn't have to go." Jean said from his chair, previously quite forgotten.

"Me too." Henri added glumly, resisting the urge to kick his feet underneath the table.

Marie sighed, "I make three and Trixie an armies worth, but the Loa always give the same answer, we all know it."

That was the crux of the matter, normally the Laveau family instructed its children at home in magic, giving the magical schools of the world the cold shoulder.

But Henri Laveau was still a Potter, and the spirits decreed that his destiny was at his birth parents alma mater.

A bit more briskly, Mama Marie instructed, "Finish up the essay, then meet me in the training room in ten."

As she turned to go however her boy had one more question.

"Mama, what exactly did you do to get this book away from Frederick Grindelwald anyway?"

A dark laugh from a departing Marie Laveau was the only answer that Henri got on the matter.

* * *

Henri found the next three weeks flew by him in a blur of activity. Between his Mama instructing him in the various magical arts, and Jean offering his knowledge of herb lore and making sure that his nephew always had some free time to swim and climb the willow trees that surrounded the estate.

Which was in truth exercise dressed up as play time, but Henri didn't really mind that.

Especially since it gave him a chance to see some of his swamp troll friends in their nearby village, the understanding established between Marie Laveau and their Chieftain a couple years before ensured an amicable relationship between their tribe and the Laveau family.

Henri could talk to them in Troll, and had learned the Goblin tongue as well, he was fluent in French, and spoke a little Spanish as well.

But the free time not spent learning or doing was simply spent with his two familiars, his inky black owl Louis and the Burmese python he had met as a child, which had later chosen the name Hyperion for himself.

It was during one of those moments, when Henri was outside in the shade of an old willow, Hyperion coiled nearby on a rock in a sunbeam, Louis perched on his shoulders that a different sounding hoot got his attention.

Henri lifted a lazy eye up and found a large tawny barn owl, perched on a low branch with a big envelope in its beak.

He motioned for it to come down and accepted the letter and gave it a treat, which it accepted gratefully before flying off, and causing Louis to give a slight peck out of annoyance.

Shrugging off the nip, Henri looked at the front it and found that it simply read: _To Mr. Henri Jacques Laveau-Potter, Laveau Plantation, Louisiana USA._

When he opened it the first line revealed what it was.

"My Hogwarts letter," Henri said with finality and acceptance, before then he got up and headed into the house to let Uncle Jean and Mama Marie know, Hyperion slivered in his wake.

Louis simply rode on his shoulder, and rubbed his cheek affectionately, giving what comfort an owl could to its human master.

"At least my Mum and Dad will be happy," Henri thought to himself as he reached the rear entrance, "I'll perform a few prayers later tonight to let them know."

The one thing that Henri regretted above all else about going to Hogwarts was that he had yet to gain the power to commune with the dead outside of the performance of Voodoo ritual.

But the voice of his Mama echoed in his mind, with the words of comfort she always gave when he expressed his frustration with the matter.

"When the time is right, you will gain the power, and the responsibility of speaking with the spirits."

Henri just wished that it was sooner, rather than later.

* * *

A roaring fire warmed the Headmaster's Office deep in the heart of Hogwarts Castle. The room itself was fill with fantastical objects, rare and obscure spellbooks, a beautiful phoenix named Fawkes who was perched next to the desk of one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, the Headmaster of the premier magical school in Europe.

The man himself was seated at said desk, paperwork forgotten before him, his fingers were pressed together in a triangle as his twinkling blue eyes seemed to be out of focus.

His swirl of thoughts focused instead on finally discovering the whereabouts of a child that he had lost over a decade before.

Harry James Potter.

Dumbledore had had it all planned it out, the boy would be kept safe and away from the Wizarding World and the fame that would have ruined him, while he of course would have been in control of the Potter Estate.

Keeping it safe (and to fund a possible resurgence of the Order of the Phoenix) for the lad until he entered the Wizarding World, with the right guidance of course.

All of it would have ensured both his safety, and his malleability.

It wouldn't do for the Savior of the Wizarding World, the Boy-Who-Lived, to be anything other than his star pupil, and to put it meanly a pawn in the grand plan to ensure the total destruction of one Lord Voldemort.

For the Greater Good, of course.

But it had all gone to pieces when a mere three days after Harry had been dropped off at the Dursley's that the Blood Wards around the house had suddenly collapsed.

Fearing the worst he had rushed in headfirst and had found… Nothing.

The Dursley's had never found the baby, there had been no basket, no note, in fact they hadn't even known that Lily and James Potter had died.

After checking them quite thoroughly for magical manipulations of all sorts, Albus Dumbledore had been forced to conclude that someone had managed to breach his security wards and taken Harry away in the time between his departure and the Dursley's getting their milk delivery.

He had then made a beeline for Gringott's, since after all the Goblins had methods of tracking their clients that were better than anyone else's.

Only to find that he, the most powerful wizard alive, was already shut out of the Potter accounts, and that his guardianship had been ended due to a technicality in the Last Will and Testament of James and Lily Potter.

A set of documents that he had already had suppressed.

Someone had found them, unfroze them and had them read, unlocking the magically binding contract within.

Forever shutting him out of direct control of young Harry, much less the accounts, which would have been used for the Greater Good of defeating Voldemort.

Not to mention learning that the boy had been Blood Adopted by a new guardian who had been the one to find him, and due to finding him on a doorstep had been able to wriggle through a declaration that due to the child's 'abandonment' that finders keepers applied.

Dumbledore had used every trick he had short of actual torture to learn the identity of Harry's Guardian, to no avail.

He had been reduced to sitting with his Deputy Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall as the Quill of Enrollment had penned out the acceptance letters for Hogwarts students.

It had come as a great shock to see Harry's name emerge under a French spelling, then Dumbledore had felt his blood run cold at the surname that had emerged.

Laveau-Potter.

McGonagall had nearly choked on the tea she had been drinking when she had seen it as well.

Harry Potter's guardian all these years had been Marie Laveau.

"I'm going to have my work cut out for me." Albus muttered aloud, unheard by all but Fawkes who just cocked his head for a moment before turning back to his previous pose.

It would take a lot of delicate handling to repair whatever damage that the so-called 'Voodoo Queen' had done to the boy.

But Dumbledore was determined to see it through, for the Greater Good of course.

* * *

_Notes: Next we're Hogwart's bound, and Henri will meet his first friends in Britain and be sorted, and a certain Headmaster will, if he isn't careful find out first hand why the Laveau is feared in the first place..._


	5. The Express to a Talking Hat

**The Express to a Talking Hat**

Amidst the usual hustle and bustle of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, a tall boy with dark skin and cold brown eyes was stoically putting up with the last bit of mothering from his mother.

Who he was very thankful that she was in-between husbands, otherwise he'd have to act like he cared about the fellow.

"Oh Blaise," Ayomide Zabini sniffed while dabbing her eyes, "I'll miss you so much, it'll be the first time in years that I won't have you with me in Tuscany."

The boy in question couldn't resist a smirk, "I'm sure you'll manage."

He then patted her on the arm playfully, fully aware of his beautiful mother's long string of lovers and boy-toys that she kept for her pleasures.

After all it wasn't every day that a rich older wizarding gentleman became available for a suitable marriage.

In Ayomdie's case the marriages seemed to last about as long as it took for the custom made coffin for the funeral to be ordered and delivered.

But as she gave her son a bemused grin, her gaze caught a flicker of something and a quick glance had her doing a double take.

"Oh my gods!" she hissed with a voice now swimming with awe instead of faux self-pity.

"What?" Blaise said while turning his head to where his mother was looking.

He saw two figures stepping out from one of the apparition points; one was of a boy his age with sun-kissed skin and great good looks, his stunning green eyes were captivating.

It took a lot of effort for Blaise to look away from them.

The other was most likely the boy's mother, she somehow cut a curvy figure in fine crushed black velvet robes with silver trim, an elaborate bronze shawl was draped over her shoulders, her hair done up and hidden in a scarf, and while she was beautiful somehow she appeared completely ageless.

"That… That's Marie Laveau!" Ayomide commented breathlessly, "Oh the stories I heard of her as a girl before I left Africa. I didn't know she had a new son…"

Having received some prior tutoring like most Purebloods, Blaise was able to recognize the name and his normally dispassionate eyes widened.

His mother turned her full gaze on him and said, "You must make friends with that boy, or at the very least do not get on his bad side."

Blaise couldn't resist a little cheek.

"Even if he is Sorted into Gryffindor?"

Ayomide actually snickered, "Trust me my son, no scion of the Laveau's will _ever _wind up in the Lion's Den. He would eat them alive."

* * *

As the British countryside flew by through the window, Henri sat quietly as he contemplated the whirlwind that had been his last few days in Louisiana.

They had gotten his school supplies in the Big Easy first, along with a special trunk that had built-in charms for easy carry and storage for far more things than first glance would reveal.

Like more exotic potions ingredients than was required for official classwork, extra sets of robes, spellbooks more advanced than the ones on his booklist, and various artifacts and the materials needed to set up an altar for rituals and prayer.

His Mama had arranged for his owl to arrive at Hogwarts in advance, so for company he had brought Hyperion, who was currently curled up in the seat next to him, relishing the warmth of the sunny spot.

Henri pressed a hand on his chest, feeling the hidden necklace he wore pressed against his skin, a small red bag tied to a leather thong, a powerful gris-gris that he and Mama had made together.

It was to ward against mental intrusions from powerful mind-readers and magical attempts at mind control.

On the ring finger of his left hand there was a silver ring with an icon of Our Lady of Prompt Succor that had been woven with House Elf magic courtesy of Trixie, allowing it to serve as an emergency Portkey that could bypass even the wards of Hogwarts.

There was a knock at the compartment door, Henri turned and called out, "Come in."

He was secretly relived that the person at least had the mind to knock, the last two to approach him had just barged in, looking for the fabled 'boy-who-lived'.

But before he could enjoy how they had missed their quarry the door opened to reveal a rather tall boy with dark skin and an aloof demeanor.

"Do you mind some company?" he asked courteously.

"Not at all." Henri replied with his curiosity piqued.

The boy seated himself in the opposite seat, and while he took note of the Burmese Python, the stranger didn't react with shock or fear like the others who had come before had.

Instead he introduced himself as Blaise Zabini, and from his expensive clothes and overall persona had him pegged as one of the old world 'Purebloods'.

"Laveau," Henri replied with a slight grin with his Creole accent in full attendance, "Henri Laveau."

Blaise began to speak once more when the door to the compartment opened without warning, a girl with big front teeth, bushy hair, and a bossy aura popped in with a round-faced boy at her side, the latter of which had clearly been crying.

The girl asked if either of them had seen a toad, while Henri answered in the negative, Blaise looked at the two of them with barely concealed contempt.

While the girl went on a rant, the boy she had introduced as Neville spotted Hyperion as he slowly woke up due to the noise and managed a squeak.

This cut the girl off in mid-sentence, she looked at where Neville's gaze was and her eyes narrowed.

"Did your pet by any chance eat anything?" she asked.

While Blaise snorted in amusement, it was Henri's turn to conceal his annoyance so he gave the girl a cocky grin and said, "I'll ask him."

Then he turned to Hyperion and spoke (in English), "Did you by any chance find a toad earlier my friend?"

Hyperion turned a weary head towards Henri and yawned, inadvertently frightening everyone else.

_"Noooo." the serpent hissed to his master._

Henri turned back to the pair and replied very kindly, "He says no."

Neville had turned white as a sheet and was now pointing at Henri and stammered over and over, "Y-y-yoooo-youuuu."

The girl in the meanwhile seemed both frightened and intrigued, "Are you… a parselmouth?"

"Yes," Henri acknowledged with a small nod, "It's a blessing that was given to my Mama and me by the Mami Wata."

The girl cocked her head, clearly not sure what a Mami Wata was, so instead she brushed it aside and introduced herself as Hermione Granger.

"Charmed." Henri replied with kindness

Neville in the meanwhile couldn't take his eyes off of Hyperion, though that was most likely due to the fact that the python had coiled itself around Henri and was rubbing it's head affectionately against his neck.

Blaise couldn't resist a slight smirk at Neville's expense, the lad looked like he was about to give up the ghost.

He had been tempted to ask the girl about her blood-status, but he was aware that the vast majority of wizards across the pond didn't adhere to Blood purity and didn't want to risk his new acquaintance so soon.

So instead he asked if she had seen or heard anything about Harry Potter instead.

"Well no…" Hermione admitted reluctantly, "I mean he's supposed to be coming to Hogwarts this night, I mean I read about him in several books and this would be his year to come here. But… I haven't seen him."

Neville managed to squeak out, "I-i-i-iiii haven't seeeen him…."

Hermione then seemed to remember that they were looking for something and gave an abrupt goodbye and took Neville with her.

Once they were gone Henri laughed and said nonchalantly, "I wonder why everyone is looking so hard for Harry Potter when the answer is staring them right in the face."

Blaise Zabini was many things, stupid wasn't one of them.

It only took him a couple of moments to work out the hidden meaning in Laveau's words.

"You... You're Harry Potter?!"

Henri nodded, "Henri Jacques Laveau-_Potter_, at your service."

Blaise openly stared for a whole minute before he composed himself and asked the first question that came to mind.

"What about your scar?"

Henri laughed while pulling out a pocket watch, "My Mama removed it when I was a babe, it was apparently an ugly looking thing so no harm, no foul."

It was obvious that Zabini had more questions but was holding himself back, so Henri answered the unspoken ones as best he could.

"I was taken in by my Mama, Marie Laveau the very night that one Albus Dumbledore dropped me off on an Ordinary Folk's doorstep like a parcel. She pulled quite a few strings to ensure that man wouldn't have any power or knowledge of me until the time was right."

Henri gave a dark grin, "She let him maintain the facade that I was being raised by my Ordinary Folk relations, it will make him look all the worse once the truth comes out."

While Zabini processed this, Henri looked at his watch and said while Hyperion was making himself comfortable around Henri's midsection, "Now we should slip into our school robes, we'll be there in a few minutes."

* * *

They had been taken to Hogwarts Castle by boat, led by a man with obvious Giant's blood, thankfully the two other companions in Laveau and Zabini's boat was a weedy blond boy named Theodore Nott and a willowy Asian girl named Grace Moon.

After getting their first glimpse of the magnificent castle, they had been brought in and were made to wait in a small room where a stern Scottish woman introduced herself as the Deputy Headmistress and had given them a basic summary of what Hogwarts was about.

The instant she left an altercation between a red haired boy named Ron Weasley and a pale blond named Draco Malfoy brought no end of amusement to Henri and Blaise.

Since they had been arguing about where Harry Potter was and what house he would wind up in.

But the show was interrupted by the arrival of over twenty ghosts who floated into the room, having an argument about someone called 'Peeves'.

They noticed the students about half-way and had begun to extoll the virtues of the castle and its individual houses, but one by one their gazes fell on Henri.

The Friar spoke first clearly nervous, "Are you the Laveau?"

Hushed whispers emerged among the students who recognized the name as Henri replied, "Yes, I am a proud son of Marie Laveau."

A Nun with a missing leg began to ask with hesitation, "Can you help…"

She was cut off by the sudden return of Deputy Headmistress McGonagall, who called for the students to follow.

The whispers about why a son of a woman with Marie's dark reputation was doing across the pond at Hogwarts only abated when they entered the Great Hall.

It was lit by an endless sea of floating candles with four massive tables in the room where the older students were sitting, the plates and goblets were made of real gold.

The teacher's table was filled with the various professors, and seated on an actual golden throne was an old man doing a good Merlin imitation, complete with twinkly blue eyes that Henri had been warned to never look directly into.

However it was the ceiling that drew the most attention, clearly the product of ancient magic, it imitated the night sky outside and seemed to simply open up to the heavens themselves.

Henri was so impressed with the amount of charm work and runes he could see through the haze of magic that he didn't notice a change in the mood until he heard singing.

"The Sorting Hat," Henri thought once he noticed the dirty, beat up looking hat as it sang about what it did.

His parents had answered many questions about Hogwarts during their various summoning's, but not even the words of the dead could convey actually being here.

Though it was with regret that he was here at all, it was still Henri's fond wish to return to the Laveau Plantation and study there instead.

As he reminisced about the much warmer climate of Louisiana the sorting began to take place.

Each student put on the hat and it decided where they went, though the time it took to Sort them varied from person to person.

Henri was keeping track only enough to know when his turn was to come, though he noticed that the Granger girl was placed in Ravenclaw almost as soon as the hat was on her head.

Then after "Goyle, Gregory" came the call of, "Laveau-Potter, Henri"

With poise and a stoic face, Henri moved with the elegance ingrained into him by his Mama and her etiquette lessons.

The whispers bloomed like desert flowers.

"Did she say Potter?!"

"I thought his name was 'Harry'."

"Where's his scar?"

"Who are the Laveau's?"

"Doesn't he need glasses?"

"Is it Laveau as in… _Marie_ Laveau?!"

He did his best to ignore the stares as he sat on the stool and the Hat was slipped over his head, then it was all black.

A voice emerged in his thoughts.

"Impressive mental shields, oh yes I can get through them but don't worry, I am forbidden from speaking your secrets to anyone."

The brief spike of fear at the ease that this thing had invaded his mind faded, his parents had spoken true.

"I am impressed young Henri," the hat informed him, "Your Mama has trained you well, though many will claim what you do as part of the Dark Arts. But no matter, now where to place you…"

The Sorting Hat went silent for a moment as it contemplated, Henri recalled his parents praising their house, Gryffindor, but…

"It doesn't feel right, correct?" the Hat asked him and felt the mental nod from the lad.

"Well your instincts do you justice Henri," it assured him, "You have courage yes, but it is dwarfed by your intellect and your desire to prove that your magic is outside the narrow confines of 'Light and Dark'… I know where you should go."

Henri waited with bated breath as the Hat recited all of this and released it as it yelled out.

"Slytherin!"

The Great Hall was as silent as the tombs of the St. Louis Graveyard.

Henri handed the hat to a stunned McGonagall and began to walk towards the green and silver table, this broke the ice.

Some broke out into applause, pleased that they had acquired the Boy-Who-Lived, others were staring with cold calculation, a few with hostility.

The professors seemed to be in collective shock, though Albus Dumbledore wore his grandfatherly mask well; his eyes were no longer twinkling.

Only a skittish looking man in a turban had an emotion besides surprise, he seemed intrigued.

For his part, Henri seated himself next to a girl he had seen sorted named Daphne Greengrass and got comfortable while watching the rest of the Sorting.

Neville was apparently a Longbottom and it took him a long time to be placed in Gryffindor, and after rushing to the table with the Sorting Hat still on his head was forced to go back with gales of laughter in his wake.

He noted that Malfoy, Moon, and later Nott were all placed in Slytherin with him and greeted each in turn, though Henri greeted Malfoy a bit coolly due to the incident earlier.

Then after the Weasley was placed in Gryffindor it was Blaise's turn.

It didn't take the Hat more than a half a minute before it yelled out "Slytherin!"

As the Sorting Hat was taken away and Zabini approached the table, with a warmer welcome than Laveau's had been, Henri moved a bit so his first acquaintance could sit by him.

"Hello again Blaise and might I be the first to welcome you to Slytherin," Henri said warmly once Blaise was next to him, which set off a new wave of whispers.

Blaise nodded and replied, "Hello back, and congratulations to you as well."

Henri smirked, "You're welcome, though I think I made a splash without even trying."

Zabini just laughed, "That you did, that you did."

Meanwhile at the Head's table, as Albus began to pontificate, the head of Slytherin House, a man with greasy hair and a beak of a nose named Severus Snape was gritting his teeth, his thoughts in turmoil.

He had never, not once expected that the spawn of James Potter would end up anywhere other than in the Lion's Den.

Though he did internally wince when Albus warned the students away from the Third Floor corridor if they wished to avoid an early death.

It was a surefire way to cause the idiots to go snooping, and Snape made a note to prepare extra healing potions for the infirmary.

But as the feast appeared before everyone, Snape carefully watched the Potter boy, noting that his manners were impeccable and on par with most Purebloods.

"Though if he was raise as a Laveau this isn't surprising." A little voice in his mind whispered.

Which brought up a whole host of questions that he suspected that Dumbledore would be loathed to answer.

"I doubt he'll have much choice thought." Snape thought to himself, having heard the thinly veiled whispers and the shocked faces of everyone in the room when the boy's name had been called.

"The next seven years are going to be interesting." That voice whispered nastily again.

Severus very much doubted that was a good thing at all, especially when he thought he saw something dart out of Laveau's robes at his plate before vanishing with lightning speed.

* * *

After the sumptuous feast, the Slytherin First years were lead out of the Great Hall by two Fifth year Prefects named Alexis Bode and Garret Wormwood.

They followed the prefects ever downward, the darkening corridors lit by large torches, the portraits were whispering as they passed.

When it seemed that they had reached the bowels of the castle the prefects stopped in front of a blank stone wall, Alexis turned and began to speak.

"This is the entrance to the Slytherin Common room, it appears to be a simple blank wall. But if you look up towards the ceiling you will see a small golden serpent icon. You will tell no one outside of our house about this under any circumstances."

The unspoken, "Got it?" was understood by all.

Garret then spoke in turn.

"The password changes every month on the 1st, right now it is… Lotus extract."

The wall slide open before their eyes and the group followed the prefects into their new home.

The common room was a large rectangular room, large golden chandeliers were suspended above to give a soft glow.

The place had a grand air about it, with bookshelves all across with green couches and chairs strung about near the various fireplaces, all of which were lit and giving off a comfortable warmth.

One wall had an eerie mage window that revealed that the common room was partially under the lake, Henri saw a small school of fish scurry by and thought that it made for a restful air.

"Welcome to Slytherin," a quiet voice emerged from behind them, everyone turned and saw that it was greasy haired man, "I am Professor Severus Snape, but within the Common Rooms you may call me Snape."

He paused before continuing, "Of the four houses of Hogwarts, the House of the Serpent is most often branded as evil and ostracized for it. Let me assure you all that this is not true, however due to this unfortunate stereotype we must present a united front. The problems of Slytherin must stay within Slytherin."

Snape then indicated towards the prefects, "Tomorrow all of you will receive your schedules at breakfast, then you will be escorted to your classes by your prefects, since until you have your bearings it will be easy to get lost within the castle."

He then added, "Remember that my door is open to any Slytherin in need, though it would be to your advantage to ask one of the Prefects first. Any questions?"

When no one spoke up, Snape simply wished them a good night and departed, seeming to melt into the shadows.

Henri got the strangest feeling that Snape had conflicted feelings about him, and while he trusted his instincts he wasn't sure of the why.

But he pushed it aside as Garret led the boys towards what turned out to be the boy's dorms, another black and dark green corridor contained a series of doors, Garret opened the one marked "First Years" and let them in.

The room was plush and silken with the serpent motif done in blacks and dark greens, a roaring fireplace was present nearby, six four-poster beds were lined up with the trunks from the trains already present and accounted for. Each bed area had space for a bookshelf, a small desk with a high black chair, and a wardrobe.

In the center of the room was a large dark green table surrounded by black leather chairs.

Henri discovered that his bed was between Blaise and Draco Malfoy's, the two large boys, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle had their own little corner, and Nott was to Blaise's left.

It wasn't home, with its body crushing head and the smells of the swamp, Trixie's cooking, Uncle Jean's laughter, the chili peppers that Mama grew and harvested in the old cotton fields, the gardens with its flowers, vegetables, and various potion's ingredients.

But, it had its own charms.

It was Draco that broke the silence with, "I'm surprised that the Old Man didn't summon Henri here to his office and force a Re-Sort."

Henri snorted and smirked, pleased that Malfoy was smart enough to use the name he preferred rather than 'Harry'.

So he chose to answer with, "The bastard is many things, but a fool isn't one of them sadly. No, he's probably trying to regroup and observe me quietly while coming up with a plan over time."

That caused Draco's eyes to widen and Blaise to chuckle softly.

Theodore Nott on the other hand nodded and said, "That… sounds like something Dumbledore would do."

Henri answered with a wider grin and a nod before going to his trunk to unpack, Hyperion slivered out from the bottom of his robes, startling everyone but Blaise.

"Oh by the way," Henri said over his shoulder, "This is Hyperion."

The serpent's eyes gleamed with intelligence as it observed everyone, then it followed it's master to his bed as Henri got ready to change.

Henri waited a little while until everyone else had done the same and had curled into their bedding.

Then he quietly slipped to his end table and pulled out the small hand mirror that his Mama had given him and felt his power flow as he whispered, "_Communicoa_"

His reflection vanished and mere moments later the familiar face of Mama Marie surfaced.

"Mama." Henri spoke looking into the glass.

"Hello child," Marie replied with a soft smile, "How did things go?"

"I was sorted into Slytherin." Henri answered with a content look.

Marie laughed, "I'll bet that gave that old fool a nasty shock, though I must admit that I expected you to enter the intellectual house, Ravenclaw."

Henri nodded, "I thought that as well but the Hat thinks I'll do very well in the house of Ambition."

Marie nodded and replied, "I do as well, though I wish you didn't have to be there at all."

"I do too Mama, I do too." Henri replied sadly.

But… The spirits had always said the same thing whenever the question had been posed to them, that his destiny was tied to the school.

For the moment at least.

They both moved beyond the subject and Henri assured Mama Marie that he would find a space to perform proper Voodoo, keep up his hygiene, and use that enchanted notebook so she could continue his tutoring.

Even with an ocean between them.

But eventually he couldn't contain the yawns and Mama bided him goodnight before vanishing from the glass.

Henri canceled the spell with a weary wave before turning in and putting his head on the silken pillow.

* * *

_Note: First I would like to thank everyone for their reviews, I must admit that I thought about having Henri enter Ravenclaw but Slytherin seemed to fit better._


	6. Falling into Hogwarts

**Falling into Hogwarts**

During his first week at Hogwarts Henri became very thankful that the Slytherin prefects were required to show the first years where their classes were to be held, since otherwise it would have been pure anarchy with the mini-snakes struggling to find anything in such an immense castle.

One observation that Henri made as he had sat in the Great Hall for the first time for breakfast, observing the student population was that between the two Dark Lords that had devastated Europe in the 20th century that the magical population was quite low.

"Why, even your basic education classes with other magical children had more people in the class than in your entire year." His inner voice had whispered to him.

However people watching on his part was a bit difficult since unlike in the States, the people here were _watching back_.

The whispers were like a constant hissing of a particularly talkative serpent, and they ranged from the curious to the fearful.

Henri was thankful that his fellow Slytherins had enough tact to keep their own questions about him in the Slytherin Common Room.

Even when during the break between their first class when Theodore turned a corner in a corridor and got to see Peeves the Poltergeist fleeing at top speed away from Laveau, his ghostly eyes filled with fear.

The only thing that Henri would say was that, "Sometimes when you clown around, the clown comes back to bite."

Theodore Nott gave Henri Laveau a respectful distance after that.

The first class they had had was a double of Transfiguration with the Hufflepuffs, all of whom had taken over one side of the classroom and had moved the desks as far away from the snakes as they could without attracting the ire of the Professor, McGonagall.

She proved to be a stern taskmistress as she first demonstrated basic theoretical concepts of Transfiguration on a blackboard.

Henri had politely taken notes, even while noting to himself that this was stuff he had done as a child.

Then came a practical lesson when they were given matchsticks and asked to make them into needles.

Henri chose to wait a bit and pretend to struggle before turning his match into a needle.

McGonagall congratulated him and asked if he could change it back.

Henri shrugged and with a wave of his sequoia wand the needle was a match once more.

"Oh how wonderful!" McGonagall said with a rare smile, "Ten points to Slytherin for a perfect demonstration of the principals of Transfiguration."

Henri took it as his due and glanced at the person seated next to him, Zabini who had managed to make his own match silver but not a needle.

"Here," Henri said to him gently, "Let me show you what you're doing wrong."

By the end of the less, Blaise Zabini became the only other person in the class who had successfully turned his match into a needle and back again.

Though Draco Malfoy did manage to turn his into a needle, he couldn't get it to go back. However his grey eyes became focused on Henri and Blaise on their way out, filled with curiosity and interest.

Charms was taught by Professor Flitwick, a man with clear Goblin heritage and while Henri already showing a real knack for the subject at home, found himself a bit bored since they were informed that the class would be doing theory until at least October.

History of Magic was taught by the school's only ghost instructor, Professor Binns, and due to the lack of quality in the teacher's so called 'teaching skills' Henri could see why he was the only ghost to teach a class at Hogwarts.

Henri turned a blurry eye towards an almost passed out Blaise and whispered, "We'll be better off learning this on our own."

Blaise managed to nod his head before slumping over his desk.

A couple seconds later everyone was jolted awake when Vincent Crabbe passed out and cracked his head on the wood of his desk.

Professor Binns kept droning on about the Goblin Wars without noticing this at all.

Herbology was a double lesson with the Ravenclaws, and Professor Sprout proved to be an energetic teacher, even if the plants she was showing them were outright boring.

"Remember that you are way ahead of everyone else here." Henri told himself, even as Crabbe and Goyle were asking Sprout why the fertilizer smelled bad.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts course proved to be something of a joke, Professor Quirrell's stammer rendered him impossible to understand, and he spent all of his time talking about the introduction to the course.

For some reason though whenever his eyes fell on Henri, he would analyze him like an unexpected surprise before pressing forward with his 'lesson'.

Thursday night at midnight was time for Astronomy for the Slytherin's, and Professor Sinistra proved to be especially adept at her chosen subject of instruction. Not to mention that for the Slytherins that she was the only other alumni of their house on the teaching staff besides Snape didn't hurt her popularity one bit.

Then during breakfast towards the end of the week came the last class on the schedule, Double Potions with the Gryffindor's.

At the Slytherin's table in the Great Hall, underneath the ceiling depicting the bright sunny morning outside, and under the watchful gaze of the teachers eating their own breakfasts, Henri glanced at the Gryffindor table and barely suppressed a grimace.

"What's wrong?" Blaise asked him as he followed Henri's gaze, looking for trouble.

"We're going to be stuck in a room with those people, that's what." Henri muttered in disgust.

In his first week, Henri had been forced to dodge hexes, jinxes, attempts at tripping him, and nasty whispers about himself and even worse things about his mother, and the vast majority of those things had come from the so-called 'House of the Light'.

Henri's friend just gave a dark grin, even as the Weasley boy chomped on eggs and bacon without shutting his mouth, "Don't worry about it, Snape will favor us over them. I've heard that Potions is our time to torture them."

"That's right," the sneering voice of Draco Malfoy emerged from nearby, "Uncle Sev will _never _let those Gryffindorks mess with us under his watch."

Henri glanced at the staff's table and noticed that their head of house, Snape was watching them, Henri could feel the gris-gris bag around his neck tingle a little and looked away.

* * *

Time sped up as far as Henri was concerned since it didn't seem to take all that long for Potions to come around.

All of the Slytherin's were present and seated in the classroom when the Gryffindors started to slowly trickle in about five minutes before class was to begin.

While they waited, the Gryffindors seemed to be playing a game of staring at Laveau and then darting their eyes away the instant he seemed to notice.

Not to mention the whispering about him grew and grew like a balloon filling up with air.

"Did you hear those stories about the Laveaus?" an Indian girl whispered to another girl next to her.

"I'll bet that Potter's been taught the Dark Arts." An Irish lad said to a tall black boy, who nodded and added, "Look at him with those snakes; he probably views muggleborns like me with contempt. Stupid inbreeds."

"That Marie Laveau is a monster and Potter isn't much better!" Ron Weasley hissed to Neville Longbottom, who actually shook his head in the negative.

"Henri seems nice to me…" Neville began to say back but Ron cut him off with an ugly glare.

"She's a filthy Necromancer and a Dark Witch who stole the Boy-Who-Lived and turned him into a filthy snake!" Ron said, forgetting to whisper.

For the last week Henri had been ignoring the whispers and rumors, after all the vast majority of them were coming from the mouths of the ignorant.

But this blatant disrespect of his Mama Marie was not acceptable, not by anyone's standards.

"Shut up!" Henri's voice cut across the room like a hot knife, startling everyone.

Henri gave Weasley a look that could kill, "You don't know _anything _about me, or my Mama, or for that matter if rumor is correct anything about anything at all. So for the sake of your future health, keep your fat mouth shut!"

Ron blanched at first but then developed a mulish look on his face and began to say back, "Potter! You've picked the wrong side! How can you stand mocking your parents deaths by being around those filthy snakes-"

"Weasley!" a voice boomed from the entrance to the classroom, startling everyone.

Standing in the doorway, having entered without a sound was their teacher, Professor Severus Snape. His cold black eyes were blazing with anger and focused purely on the youngest son of the Weasley clan.

"That will be a round thirty points from Gryffindor for your disgusting words towards Laveau and the House of Slytherin, and detention for a week."

Ron opened his mouth to protest, but was stopped by Neville stomping on his foot.

Snape ignored this and glided through the room, his robes billowing behind him and then behaved as though nothing had happened and took roll call and gave a speech of introduction about the course.

Then his gaze fell on Weasley and he said with an ugly sneer, "Well let's see what you know… What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Ron seemed to shrink into himself like a tortoise in a shell, the Slytherin's began to chuckle softly.

"I- I dunno." Ron admitted shamefaced.

The sneer grew further, "Tut tut. Let's try again shall we? Weasley, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Ron seemed even more confused than before and his ears turned a lovely shade of red. The chuckles from the Slytherin's grew louder and Ron's fellow Gryffindors seemed torn between outrage at the questions and bemusement at the bully's predicament.

"I don't know." Ron murmured into his robe's collar, his eyes downcast.

"You should have come to class prepared Weasley!" Draco hissed at him with glee.

Snape either didn't hear that, or chose to ignore it since his eyes never left Weasley and he asked, "What is the difference, Weasley, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

The admission of ignorance from Ron Weasley was so low that Snape forced him to repeat it more loudly. Twice.

The chuckling of the Slytherin's grew louder, even Henri found himself unable to maintain decorum.

"Tut, tut." Snape teased one last time before turning toward his snakes and said, "Perhaps Mr. Laveau-Potter could answer my questions."

Henri took a breath to stop laughing, and suppressed his irritation at the use of 'Potter' in his name, and answered, "Of course Sir, Asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, that was a trick question, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite."

If Snape was surprised he didn't show it, he gave a curt nod and said, "Thirty points to Slytherin for being prepared for class."

He then glared at Weasley and added, "And that will be another thirty points from Gryffindor for your ignorance."

Ron Weasley gave the Slytherin's and Laveau an ugly look.

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors one bit, since Snape waved his wand and a set of instructions for a Boil Cure potion appeared on the blackboard and informed them to begin.

He then set about the room, criticizing the Gryffindors for their shoddy work, and praised the Slytherin's for their superior work.

Henri could see this as grossly unfair, since the vast majority of Slytherin's came from wealthy backgrounds and could afford the best tutors prior to their schooling. And he noted that a couple of the Gryffindor's had only made minor errors, but Snape was being harsh on them for it, and ignored the much larger mistakes of Crabbe and Goyle.

Other than whispering to Draco that he should show them the right way before they hurt people through blowing up their cauldrons on the first day.

Professor Snape then came by Henri and Blaise's table and after looking at their half-finished potions stated, "Good work Zabini, Laveau-Potter." Before walking away with his robes billowing like a large bat in the sky.

"Is he using a charm on those robes?" Blaise wondered aloud.

Henri started to answer but a sudden explosion and a scream of pain cut him off.

"Get on your stool!" Blaise yelled to him as he jumped up on his own to stand on it.

Henri did the same without thinking about it and then realized why, someone's potion was seeping over the floor, burning holes in anything that it touched.

"Idiot boy!" Snape yelled at the hapless Neville Longbottom, who had completed mauled the Irish boy's cauldron.

Snape continued to snarl while clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

"Someone take him to the hospital wing," Snape snapped. "I want him out of my sight."

He then glared at the nearby bystanders, Ron and the Irish boy and yelled, "Why didn't you warn him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another thirty points you've lost for Gryffindor."

Henri could see the injustice in this, even as the Irish boy stomped on Ron's foot to keep him from yelling back, but the memory of what Ron said to him stayed his tongue.

"It's Karma," Henri thought to himself, "Besides it saves you having to curse him later in a ritual. Waste of magical energy that would be, even if the bastard deserves it."

Blaise noticed the cold, deathly look that Henri was giving Weasley and decided right then and there that his mother was perfectly correct.

Getting on Laveau's bad side would be a very, very bad idea.

* * *

After the disaster that was the first Potions lesson the Slytherin's were free from lessons until the next week.

Which would give them time to do their homework, joy.

But instead of following the others back to the common room for some well-earned R&R, Henri slipped away from the group and wove his way to the Hospital Wing.

Or rather tried to.

"Figures." Henri muttered to himself as he was forced to concede that he was in fact, lost.

As Henri cursed the immensity of Hogwarts castle and it's unneeded dimensions for a wizarding population that was so small, something prickled on his skin.

An icy cold sensation that could only be one thing.

Henri stopped dead in his tracks in the empty corridor that he was in and said to seemingly nothing, "Who are you?"

A ghost rose up from the floor and floated in midair, a ghastly looking man covered in blood and chains.

Henri nodded, "Ah, the Bloody Baron."

The grim faced dead man nodded and replied, "Yes… Though you may call me by my name, Guy de Bourchier, the Baron of Bath."

"I'm honored," Henri replied with his accent nice and thick, "But why have you sought me out?"

The Baron gave a smile that could strike fear into the hearts of murderers, "Why? To help out a student in need."

He then turned in midair and said, "Follow me."

Henri didn't need to be told twice and hot footed it in the wake of the Ghost of his house, and unknowingly left the dangers of the Third Floor corridor behind him.

* * *

Neville Longbottom was spread out askew in a bed in the squeaky clean and brightly lit Hospital Wing of Hogwarts, the boils that had been spreading all over his exposed skin slowly healing.

The three potions that Madam Pomfrey had fed him were doing their job, but it would take a while for them to fully repair the damage.

"At least the pain is gone." Neville murmured to himself, no longer feeling like his skin was burning in a flame.

He then glanced at the pile of homework that his only friend, the bushy haired Ravenclaw Hermione Granger had brought to him. Along with a quickly made 'Get Well' card that had pride of place on his bedside table.

As he settled in to try and deal with the homework, Neville thought he heard a door open but ignored it.

But he couldn't ignore the sound of footsteps and a blast of freezing wind and looked up to see the Bloody Baron leading Henri Laveau to his bed.

"This is where I leave you, young Laveau." The Baron said to the Boy-Who-Lived like he was an old friend.

"Thank you My Lord," Henri said to the Baron with a polite nod.

The Baron seemed to smile, it was hard to tell with all the blood on him, and replied, "Oh no, thank you for coming to Hogwarts. It has been too long since such an interesting pupil has graced the Castle… Far too long indeed."

And with those words, the Baron then flew into the floor and vanished without a trace.

Neville then looked up from the spot where the Baron had vanished and realized that Henri had been waiting for his attention.

"Longbottom," Henri said with that strange accent of his, "I came by to see how you were doing, and to thank you."

"Th-thank me?!" Neville asked in confusion, "For what?"

Henri grinned a little, "For defending my honor, and the honor of the Laveau's."

He then took a chair next to the bed and sat down, "So, how are you doing?"

Neville cringed and answered, "Well Pomfrey says that I'll be out of here in the morning. But all I've got to do is, well."

He then indicated towards the pile of homework in front of him, and Henri's grin grew.

"Here Neville," he said much more gently while pulling one of the books towards them, "Let me help you."

"Why are you being nice to me?" Neville asked while Henri flipped through the Transfiguration textbook. "I mean you're a Slytherin, your house and mine don't get along."

Henri glanced at him and replied, "Because I'm not one to stand on petty fights and feuds, especially since I have no ill will towards the House of Gryffindor itself. Just certain people in it, that's all."

Henri then added, "But not everyone, and besides I think you and I would make great friends."

"Friends?!" Neville said in surprise before he started to smile happily and said almost to himself, "Friends…"

Henri then showed him the first page that they were supposed to read and write out an essay on and replied, "Yes Neville, friends."

With Henri's help, Neville got through his homework in an hour, and discovered to his surprise that he understood almost all of it with Henri's help.

Even after Henri Laveau had left, at Pomfrey's urging, Neville's smile didn't leave his face even after he had fallen asleep.

* * *

_Note: I just fixed a couple typo's. Nothing major. _


	7. Flying and Thoughts

**Flying and Thoughts**

There were things about Hogwarts that Henri found to be quite bothersome, like the perpetually damp and muggy Scottish weather, or how most of the student body seemed to view him as either a hero in the making or the next Dark Lord.

But that was easy to shrug off, after all the Old World philosophy about 'Light' and 'Dark' magic had nothing to do with how Mama Marie had taught him magic.

"Heck," Henri thought to himself about the matter one day during breakfast, "Mama Marie told me about branches of banned magic that can help and heal, and that so-called Light spells could be used to hurt people."

She had taught him many things, but the one thing that she had made sure was drilled into him was that people were not labels, they were complex beings who were more than the sum of their parts.

Then Henri had the sudden mental image of Ronald Weasley and added, "There are exceptions."

"Huh?"

Henri looked up from his corn flakes at Blaise and said, "Sorry, just thinking out loud."

Blaise grunted before turning a blurry eye back to his scrambled eggs.

From across the table Draco Malfoy commented, "Well now that you're awake, mind if I took a look at your Transfiguration notes?"

Henri shrugged, "Sure, why not?"

Draco smirked while Laveau fished out his notes from McGonagall's class, and quickly became absorbed in them once they were in his pale hands.

Henri just smiled and shook his head.

After all if after the first night at Hogwarts you had told him that he would have become friends with Malfoy he wouldn't have believed it.

But the pale-blond brat had managed to grow on him over the first couple of weeks, Draco had flaws aplenty, but Henri planned to fix that.

And he had already made some progress since he had publicly socialized with Neville Longbottom the very next day after his first potion's accident.

"Draco," Henri had told him the second Malfoy had approached him in the Slytherin common room, "I assume this is about Neville?"

Draco had begun to say, "Of course it is-"

But Henri had cut him off by saying, "He's a friend of mine."

The Slytherin common room had gone quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

"But he's a Gryffindor…" Draco had begun again.

"I am aware of that." Henri had replied politely, "However my birth parents were Gryffindor's as well and that didn't make them hate _me _for being here."

Before anyone in the room could respond to that, Henri had added as he gathered his things to leave, "Besides, I'm helping him with his Potion's making skills. I don't think it's in anyone's interest to risk constant explosions for the next seven years."

And with that particular answer Draco Malfoy fell silent, clearly not wanting to cause a rupture between them.

But even as Henri Laveau had walked out of the common room for the boy's rooms, several students in room had noticed Henri speaking of his parents in the present tense.

As if they were alive.

The older students, the ones who had read up on Marie Laveau since Harry Potter's appearance at the school as her adoptive son at least, contemplated the rumors about the Voodoo Queen of New Orleans and either shuddered or found themselves fascinated by the possibilities that were hidden behind Henri's green eyes.

But in the present the early morning conversations between the Slytherin First Years were quickly centering on the notice about Flying Lessons later in the day.

"I don't understand why Dumbledore wants us to be buzzing around the air with _them!" _Grace growled with a thumb jabbed in the direction of the Lions, who seemed to be discussing the same topic.

"Because he's barmy." A large, heavy-set girl named Millicent Bulstrode replied while eyeballing the bacon plate, clearly considering a second helping.

Henri chuckled softly at that.

Blaise lifted himself into the land of the aware long enough to say, "The old fool thinks it'll bring us all together."

Every single Slytherin within earshot snorted.

Especially since a few seconds later the voice of Ron Weasley carried over to their table, the would-be bully was complaining loudly about having to fly a broom "with those filthy snakes!"

"How do his siblings put up with him?" Daphne Greengrass thought aloud with a sniff of contempt.

"Because they're all a bunch of filthy bloodtraitors!" Pansy Parkinson answered while stabbing her ham fiercely.

Henri's grimace at that word was only noticed by Draco and Grace.

Blaise meanwhile tapped his now empty goblet for a fourth serving of coffee.

* * *

After Transfiguration, where the most interesting thing that had happened was Weasley's button he was supposed to be turning into a beetle morphed into a chicken bone. There had been a break and then came Flying.

"Are these brooms safe?" Henri muttered to himself at the sight of them.

"I guess the older student's weren't lying after all." Blaise added right at his side.

The brooms that Hogwarts had on offer in the middle of the courtyard had clearly seen better days.

"Mama wouldn't trust these things in her kitchen much less to fly." Henri said quietly as Madam Hooch stared at the students from both houses with a stern gaze.

"Everyone stand next to a broom." She said with her strange piercing yellow eyes flashing, "Make sure that the broom is to your right."

There was a few minutes of shuffling as the Slytherins and Gryffindor's scurried to the two lines of brooms.

"Good," Hooch said, "Now hold out your right hand and say UP!"

Henri didn't bother with the yelling, instead just holding out his hand and his broom flew up without any muss.

He noticed that most of the Slytherin's had managed this feat as well, "But to be fair, almost all of them have been on brooms before." A voice that sounded suspiciously like his Uncle Jean's whispered in his thoughts.

Henri glanced at the Gryffindor's and saw that most of them were struggling, Ron's broom had flown up and struck him in the head.

But he saw Neville hadn't even managed to get his broom to move an inch off the ground and called out, "Hey Neville, don't sound so nervous, the tone of your voice is making the broom think you don't want to leave the ground. Calm down and try again."

Everyone was now staring at him in surprise, even Madam Hooch.

However a nudge from the Patil girl had Neville snapping out of it and clearing his throat before almost bellowing, "Up!"

The broom shot right up into his flabbergasted hands.

"Hey, thanks Laveau!" Neville yelled back with a grin of disbelief.

"No problem."

Madam Hooch recovered from her surprise and said, "Good work Mr. Laveau at helping a fellow student. Five points to Slytherin."

As she moved on Henri saw that even the more hardline Slytherin's were impressed, though he did see Ron Weasley muttering something to the Irish lad, Finnegan and they both gave nasty laughs.

Then while Madam Hooch went around correcting people's grips on their brooms, Blaise caught his eye and asked, "So how good are you on a broom?"

Henri shrugged, "Pretty good, me and Uncle Jean did a lot of racing and I played Quodpot with some of the local kids when I could."

"Quodpot? Oh, right the American game."

Henri just chuckled before Madam Hooch swooped in and gave his grip a cursory look and commented, "Perfect grip."

Then she informed Blaise that the way he was bending his wrist would cause long-term damage and fixed it.

Malfoy started to laugh until Hooch informed him that he had been doing it all wrong for years.

Then came actual flight, which for Henri wasn't really all that challenging.

Madam Hooch kept herself in the back to better help the struggling and inexperienced get their bearings, but when even Weasley had found his stride, Madam Hooch buzzed to the front and summoned several large hoops with her wand and had each student go through them at a slow pace, each time she made things a little more complex until she reached that particular pupil's limit and informed them on how to improve with practice.

She did this based on the lineup, so Henri had the pleasure of watching her sending Weasley through only two sets before sending him off with extra practice, "Before you get yourself killed!"

Blaise and Draco both acquitted themselves well enough that Hooch advised them to consider joining the Slytherin's Quidditch team next year.

Then she called out, "Laveau, Henri."

By the end Madam Hooch was beaming, and all the students were staring at him in awe.

"Oh Mr. Laveau, you have clearly inherited your father's talents on a broom!" Madam Hooch informed him in front of everyone without shame, "I think Flint would let you on the team this year if he could manage it."

Henri just nodded politely, even though he had never played Quidditch in his life.

* * *

"…I'm glad things are going so well for you my child." Marie told him, her image reflecting back to Henri through the mirror in the shared bathroom in the boy's dorm late at night.

Henri nodded, "And I'm keeping up with my lessons."

Marie Laveau nodded, "I've been scoring your latest essay on basic spell creation, so far you've done everything perfectly."

Henri beamed, the extra lessons that his Mama was having do through the notebook were ones that were already on the borderline of legality in Magical Britain, and he had no doubt those lines would be transgressed countless times soon enough.

"Then again," Henri thought with a mental snort, "They have so many regulations that everyone would have to break them just to function."

But Mama Marie brought him back to earth by adding, "You haven't tried to make any spells on your own yet, right?"

"Of course not Mama." Henri reassured her with a firm nod, "I'm not ready for that yet."

"No, you are not." His Mama informed him with a firm nod of her head, "Whatever your head start on the theory, it would be _very dangerous _for you to attempt making spells without supervision."

Henri barely managed to keep from gulping.

He knew she meant business.

But she lightened the mood by asking him about the latest from his friends.

"Well me and Blaise spent our free time yesterday coming up with ways to get that Weasley boy expelled." Henri said with a laugh, "Even if none of them would really work."

Marie Laveau sighed, "I'd have thought you would have made him see that being a bully is a bad thing."

Henri grunted, "He's too dumb, and he isn't worth wasting magic or a ritual on."

His Mama felt a surge of pride at her boy's restraint and kept the smile off her lips, but it showed through her eyes.

"As long as he doesn't physically threaten you then there isn't much to fear on that front, other than irritation."

That had both Laveau's laughing merrily.

Then Henri dared to ask, "So how has the research gone?"

Marie Laveau's face fell, "Not well, not well at all. I've been running into walls and dead ends. But don't you worry yourself none. There are only so many places… Nevermind."

Henri nodded, there were things that weren't safe to speak aloud.

"At least not yet." He whispered to himself.

"What was that?"

"Just a reminder to myself is all Mama," Henri told her honestly and then asked if she had any visions about the 'Old Fool' or his Godfather.

"Of Sirius Black, nothing." Mama Marie sighed sadly, "The spirits keep saying the same thing, "Find the rat…"

Henri snorted, "We know that! But _where is-?"_

"Somewhere in Britain," Marie cut him off, "Beyond that the spirits are saying that Pettigrew has immersed himself so far into his Animagi form that he is only partly visible to them."

Henri suppressed a growl of frustration, his parents had told him about the man who had supposed to take him in, their dear friend Sirius Black and how he had been framed with the crimes of the man who had truly sold them out and was now rotting in the 'care' of the Dementors.

"Don't fret none," Marie informed him, "We'll find the rat and we will shove him down the British Ministries throat if need be. Oh, and as for the Old Fool…"

Marie then laughed darkly, "Fear of me is staying his hand."

Henri managed a weak smile, "It won't last."

"No it won't," Marie said with a shake of her head, "But it will hold for at least until spring."

"I won't let him control me." Henri said with conviction.

"It won't happen," Marie told him sweetly, but with hidden steel, "The only reason you are at Hogwarts is because the spirits informed us that certain things can only be accomplished at Hogwarts. But that doesn't require Dumbledore to be in charge, does it?"

Henri nodded in the affirmative, vigorously.

Marie laughed, "Now you go and get some sleep, tomorrow is the first full moon of the month. And I know you'll have a lot to say to your birth parents."

"Yes Mama Marie," Henri replied happily, "And the Summoning's are getting easier each time."

"You are gaining in experience." Marie told him sagely, "Though the nearness of All-Hallows Eve is a factor as well."

Henri acknowledged that, after all the Day of the Dead was when the barrier between the living and the dead was at its thinnest, a most important time of year at the Laveau Plantation.

They then chatted quietly for a few more minutes before Marie reminded him that it was time to go to bed.

* * *

Marie Laveau turned away from her looking glass with a weary sigh, it might have been late at night in Britain but it was still early evening in Louisiana and she was already bone-tired.

She had been standing in front of a small mirror hanging on a hook inside the large, subterranean space set aside for magical experiments of all sorts. Marie had found the network of caves in a rocky outcrop deep within the swamps and had purchased the land dirt cheap a century ago.

It had taken the better part of a decade to create the perfect workspace for her more dangerous workings, but it had been worth it in end.

And now she could gaze upon the massive magically reinforced table in the main chamber with pride, though at the moment it was sparse of its usual collection of ancient objects, potions, and other things in favor of a series of books on a subject so vile it made her stomach churn.

The breaking of the immortal soul.

Once more Marie Laveau cursed Voldemort for a fool to end all fools and glared at the ancient greek parchment in front of her.

Herpo the Foul had been the first (recorded) idiot to tamper with the inner mysteries, and had paid for it dearly.

"And the up-jumped Lord jumped right into this without even considering the ramifications." Marie muttered to herself in disgust.

The soul shard that had been lodged in her poor boy's head as a babe had been the first indication that the latest Dark Lord of the Old World had done something beyond 'usual evil'.

Removing it had been simple enough, especially due to its desiccated state, which had been an even more troubling sign than a shard that had been much stronger.

It was an obvious conclusion that Voldemort hadn't intentionally broken his soul just once, oh no, he had done so more than once.

Which had required her to study up on a subject that should never have had been explored by anyone, Horcrux.

The spirits were of little help in this matter, since the very creation of a Horcrux was unnatural, the instant the soul was split, the broken piece was invisible since it technically had ceased to exist. Dependent completely on the vessel that it was attached too, which also became difficult to perceive from the eyes of the departed.

All that Marie had been able to glean was that Voldemort had attached his soul shards to powerful magical objects, and she had backtracked his travels and habits as best she could for answers.

But until recently nothing had come to the surface.

"All that I found was Voldemort's probable location a couple years back," Marie thought to herself darkly, "And the bastard gave me the slip before I could get him."

She gave the books with their bad juju one last glare before waving her hand, sending the tomes away in favor of the previous decor.

The only addition to the pile was an old book of British Wizarding Families that had been left open, the family was the House of Gaunt.

"I wonder…" Marie thought aloud as she looked at a name she had highlighted, "I wonder…"

The last decade had been spent in raising her Henri with a happy life, and with preparation for the trials that were in his path, but it had also been spent in trying to piece together the dark secrets of a man that had turned himself into a monster.

"Maybe I should see if the monster's mother would be willing to speak…" Marie said as she reread a name she had encountered during that research into the origins of a monster named Lord Voldemort.

A monster who had once been a boy called Tom Riddle.

Abandoned by his father, and left in an orphanage by a witch mother who had died soon after of grief and suffering.

Merope Gaunt.

"She hasn't come to me before," Marie reminded herself, "But then again from what's turned up it wouldn't be surprising if she's still afraid, even in death."

Marie Laveau decided that it was time to fix that.

* * *

_Additional Notes 7/18/13: I had to go back and tweak a couple of things (the big one was forgetting that __Hermione is in Ravenclaw in this verse), and I would like to thank the readers for their patience due to the long wait. I normally write fanfics for the TV show Daria and I had a hard time getting inspired._


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